


The Longest Drag

by Brick_Stonewood



Category: Joe Camel, Last Week Tonight With John Oliver
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brick_Stonewood/pseuds/Brick_Stonewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff, The Diseased Lung In A Cowboy Hat has a sexual encounter with popular cigarette mascot Joe Camel, and it seems like a dream come true. But how well can he really perform with his Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Longest Drag

I met him at a party back in '03, when Phillip Morris rebranded themselves as Altria. A lot of the higher-ups from R. J. Reynolds had been invited. Everyone was friends with the competition in this business. By that point in his career, people were calling him a has-been. And maybe he was. His last ad had run six years prior, and it didn't look like he was going to get another shot at it. Still, they had to invite him here for the cameras. He was cool. He was smooth. He was mysterious. Everyone knew Joe Camel. 

By that time, the higher-ups had all tried to quit smoking, and they didn't hold their parties outside to avoid the detectors anymore, but most of the execs didn't stay at their own parties for too long, and I'm not sure they realized how many of the attendees still hadn't kicked the habit. Some of us had a damn hard time of it. My COPD had made it just about impossible to breathe in the main room where they were handing out the champagne and Virginia Slims, and I found myself once again hunched over the handicapped toilet in the men's room wondering if I was gonna puke or pass out first. That's when Willie walked in.

"Jesus, Jeff," he said, waiting by the door. "You coulda told me you was here. You sound like you been trynna do laps around the grand ballroom. You, uh, need me to getcha some water?"

As soon as I could breathe again, I responded between gasps and wheezes. "I'm fine, Willie. Good to see you."

"If you're not, eh, too busy," he started, finally moving over to help me stand up, "There's someone here I think you'd be very interested to meet." 

I fished around for my cowboy hat, finding it after a few seconds, and putting it back on my superior lobe. It's huge and cumbersome, but I've always felt too naked if I don't have it on. Too exposed. 

"Sure," I told him, finally getting back to my feet, and clearing my throat one last time, "just lead the way." 

He waddled back toward the party for a while, and then took a hard right toward the elevators. I had to ask him to stop twice so I could catch my breath, but he was used to that by now, and I don't think he minded much. Finally, just before the elevators, he led me to a small lounge right next to the main hall. It was a room that everyone must have passed coming in, but nobody seemed to take much notice of. There were only a few people sitting there in the small room, all of them sitting down, all of them laughing. And right in the middle, there he was, in his unmistakable glory: The second-most famous cigarette mascot in the world, Joe Camel. 

Willie waddled right up to the group, and said, "Alright, Joe. There's someone I'd like you to meet. This is my good buddy, Jeff, The Diseased Lung In A Cowboy Hat." They all turned to look at me. I'd never been so nervous in my entire life. Joe had this aura around him that I couldn't shake, as if the cloud of smoke around him was a gaseous cloud of godlike charisma. I was gazing upon what must have been a perfect being. His chiseled muscles that bulged out from his suit jacket, his relaxed gaze from behind his dark sunglasses in an already dimly-lit room, and the way he held his actual Camel cigarette loosely in his mouth. Nobody in tobacco smoked Camels. They were cheap and dirty. If we smoked, we smoked something expensive, something smooth. But not Joe. He wouldn't be seen smoking anything but the real thing that had made his career. And he looked damn good doing it. 

Maybe I should have said something, but it was all too sudden. I was awestruck. I couldn't follow up Willie's introduction. I could hardly remember I'd been given an introduction. But Joe played it cool. Of course he played it cool. He took a long drag and said "Hey, Jeff." He didn't lift his hands. He only gave a slight smirk. It was probably the sexiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on. 

That's when I had another coughing fit. I doubled over, grasping my lateral segment and coughing over and over, until mucus started spraying out of my mouth. I couldn't believe my awful timing. I'm sure my face must have turned a few shades redder from the coughing and the embarrassment, and I started to wonder if I was going to be able to stop without popping a blood vessel. I hadn't popped one yet, but it always felt like I was getting a little closer every time. When I opened my eyes, I could see a small pool of mucus in front of me, along with a still-burning cigarette sitting on the carpet. I couldn't remember if I had even had a cigarette with me, or if someone else had dropped it out of sheer surprise.

Everyone watching had gone silent, and now that it was over, the only noise left was the chatter from the next room over. They were all staring at me. Most of them had their mouths open. I looked over at Willie, who gazed back at me with a look of mild concern and pity. Just then, Joe stood up, towering over everyone and immediately dominating the room once again. Without a word, he came over toward me, and stamped out the cigarette on the ground. Then he put his hand on my head and told me "Come on, kid. Let's get you out of here. We can talk someplace safer." 

He led me out of the room with his hand on my apical-posterior segment, and we walked back out and into the elevators. I had no choice, of course, but to do what he wanted. He was twice my size, and much more fit, but beyond that, I was still mesmerized that he would even want to talk to me. Why should he? He was so cool. He could talk to anyone he wanted. He could probably do anything he wanted to anyone he wanted. Yet there he was, leading me into an elevator and pressing the button leading to the eighth floor.

Wait a minute, I thought, the eighth floor is for accounting offices. He doesn't even work here. What could he possibly plan to do in the accounting offices? He's not stealing from the company, is he? 

"Uh, Joe," I said, as the elevator started down," That's gonna take us to accounting."  
"Fine by me," he said, winking, "As long as it's empty." 

God, he had actually just winked at me. And it was cool when he did it, not creepy like it usually is when someone does that. It might have been creepy if he weren't so confident in himself, but this was definitely the good kind of winking. It was reassuring. He wasn't taking me to the accounting floor so he could get crucial information relating to Altria's funding distribution. He was taking me to the accounting floor so we could have have hot, steamy, anthropomorphic-camel-on-anthropomorphic-diseased-lung sex. I couldn't have been happier.

When the elevator arrived, we got out without turning the lights on, and waited for a while for our eyes to adjust to the light. Mine did after a while, but Joe was still wearing his sunglasses, so I'm not sure if he was ever able to see anything in that empty hallway. Maybe he didn't want to. I certainly couldn't blame him if that were the case. After about a minute, he leaned back on the wall next to the water cooler, and let out a long sigh. I heard him unfastening his belt and letting his pants drop to the ground. "Get to it," he said, simply.

I fumbled my way toward him in the dark, and tripped over myself trying to reach him. I landed exactly where he wanted me, on my knees in front of him, staring at his triangular camel shaft.  
"I've, uh, never really... done this before," I warned him, looking up toward his face, which I could only make out in the dark because of the cigarette still hanging from his lips.

"Don't worry about it," he reassured me, "just pretend it's a cigarette. Or better yet, pretend that I'm a lawmaker and you're a tobacco lobbyist. Just do what comes naturally." 

I took a deep breath and nervously reached out to grab his massive brown testicles. They were the same size and shape as kiwis, but significantly hairier. I fondled them around in my hands a bit before extending my tongue outward and gently licking his nutsack over and over again. The texture of camel fur against my tongue wasn't quite pleasant, but I had previously developed black hairy tongue disease at one point before taking antibiotics, and it wasn't any worse than that. 

Finally, his member started to peek out of the shaft, and I greeted it by gently licking and suckling at it until it reached full-length. It was long, thin, deep-red, and curvy. I had never seen a camel penis before, and I was a little confused at the way it came out at a downward angle before turning almost 180 degrees upward. It looked awkward, silly, and strangely mesmerizing. I had a reduced capacity because of my emphysema, but I was determined to take the whole thing. I placed my tongue on the base and worked my way upward toward the tip, before wrapping my lips around it and pushing it as far into my mouth as I could fit it. I began pumping back and forth, with my hands each stroking and cradling one of his enormous balls. He started breathing heavily, and suddenly brought his hands down, placing one on either side of me, taking charge of me. For one glorious moment, I was completely his.

And then, just as soon as it had come, the euphoria of pleasing Joe Camel began to drain away from me. I realized very soon that I would need to come up for air. I tried to tap him on the arm to let me go, but he kept pressing me down against his cock, forcing it further down. I released my lips to try to talk around it, but he was too caught up in the moment to listen. I pushed away from him with all of my might, but I couldn't overpower him. He was too strong. I started coughing and gasping with his throbbing, rock-hard camel dick still in my mouth, the spray of my saliva mixing with the beads of precum as he finally allowed me to wrench my face away from his crotch. 

I lay on the floor for two minutes, still coughing, gagging, sputtering, and trying to recover as he waited patiently for me to regain my breath. Finally, when I had finished, he told me, "Yeah, I don't think this is really working. You head on back. I'll just finish myself off here."

"Uh, alright," I responded reluctantly, "Are you sure you don't want me to keep trying?"

"Nah, this was a bad idea to begin with," he said, already starting to masturbate as he spoke, "besides, we camels are known for our endurance. I'm probably going to be a while." 

"Alright. Well, I'm sorry I couldn't do more," I told him as I headed back into the elevator.

"Don't worry about it," he told me, just as the doors began to close.

It was the last thing he ever said to me.


End file.
